


Hüzün

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Emotional Intelligence [8]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Body Worship, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Frottage, M/M, Newtypes (Gundam Wing), Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prisoner of War, Quatre Raberba's Uchuu no Kokoro | Space Heart, arguing with your ex against all sanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 00:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30030486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: The vortex had him, no matter how hard Treize pulled back on him. If Treize has been a swirl of glass shards suspended in the air, ready to cut at every turn or movement, Zechs was a blast furnace of anger and fear and hatred, crystallized in when Sanc fell the first time.He could feel it, all of it the moment when the pendulum of Zechs’ sanity was sent swinging in the death and fire, and he needed to get himself orientated because the memories were diamond-sharp and could tear him apart. Old memories could do that and like with Treize it was like being trapped in a vortex of flying glass. No, he'd thought about how this worked, he'd practiced and he could do this. As the ashes of Sanc choked the younger Zechs, he reached through that defensive barrier and took hold of him linking to the core and following the emotion in the other man.
Relationships: Duo Maxwell & Quatre Raberba Winner, Treize Khushrenada/Quatre Raberba Winner
Series: Emotional Intelligence [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186436
Kudos: 5





	Hüzün

**Author's Note:**

> Hüzün (Turkish): the gloomy feeling that things are in decline and that the situation – often political in nature – will probably get gradually worse

He'd actually slept a lot better -- not hard when out of the hospital, and he had got as far as washing, dressing and having breakfast as Treize emerged looking a lot better than he had the previous day. Quatre was relieved at that.

He looked human again, less wrung out, easier somehow. Treize didn't have the full OZ uniform on, just shirtsleeves, boots and pants, and he looked a little sheepish as he came into the sitting room. "Good morning, Quatre."

"Morning Treize," he replied pleasantly enough. His painkillers were working, he felt like he was getting there with healing so things were doing okay. "Duo got breakfast -- I think he's enjoying going out and roaming around."

"I don't plan on putting an end to that." He ran a hand back through his own hair, and Quatre felt the odd tentative reaching out from him. "I apologize for yesterday."

Quatre looked up. "Nothing to apologise for," he said, welcoming that connection again, feeling it settle into what had become its usual place in his mind. "Call it simple help like what you did for me in the hospital."

It seemed to put Treize at ease as well; there was a faint shift in his posture, a sort of relaxing of his shoulders. "Yes, well..." He pulled a chair out beside Quatre, and sat down, grabbing a piece of toast from the breakfast tray. "I dislike falling apart like that."

Quatre smiled. "I know. But sometimes we get over ruled by our minds and bodies when we least expect it. Have some breakfast. You slept through dinner and must be hungry."

"Starving. I think I woke up around two, and you had the datapad smushed up against your face." He'd woken up under the sheets, that was probably how he'd ended up there. Treize chewed slowly on his toast. "Are you glad to have 02 around?"

Quatre nodded. "Yes, it feels... good," he admitted. It did, more than he liked to admit. Duo lightened things for him, gave him the equivalent of a kick if he was getting mopey and, yes there was someone there for him who he knew and trusted when he didn't want to add pressure to Treize.

Treize made a thoughtful noise, putting a little jam on what was left of his toast. He seemed much more even-keeled than he had the night before. Sleep deprivation really did make things worse for him. "You're not adding pressure. But that's good. I'm glad you're happy he's here."

"At some point you might have to talk to him alone," Quatre said. "I think he's trying to protect me or something. But it can wait a bit. He was busy yesterday by all accounts."

He was thinking something about a big bad wolf in the OZ uniform, and quirked an eyebrow at Quatre as he reached for a bit of bacon and coffee. "I will talk to him alone at some point today. If he wants to protect you, that's fine, too."

"I'm glad you are feeling better though," Quatre said. "I rested too." He felt obscurely proud of himself for behaving.

"You've been burnt, badly." He chewed a bit on the bacon. "Tallgeese's shock left me... spasming when I least expected it. The burns healed quick enough, but... you shouldn't discount it." Treize wanted to take him to bed, strip him naked and make everything that didn't hurt sing with other sensations. He wasn't even passing that thought along with a deliberate effort, it just sort of bobbed along the connection.

Quatre blushed a little at that, but he wasn't too averse to it. He did want it, but he was pretty sure he was not flexible enough to enjoy things properly. "That would be nice," he said quietly. "Not sure I can do much yet though."

That caught him briefly off guard, he sat up a little in his chair looking thoughtful for a moment. "You can lay back in bed, close your eyes and enjoy yourself."

Quatre smiled; that did sound good and he really wanted to feel something that wasn't tiredness or painful. "Later. Are you intending on going to meetings today?"

"Yes. There were still conversations I was having with L2 and I want to make sure they haven't fallen through. And I need to talk to Sally Po." He'd wanted to stay in bed, but he'd made himself get up as much from habit as anything else. And he was watching Quatre, while he sipped at his own coffee and picked up another piece of toast.

"You said something about that yesterday, about getting her on board," Quatre answered, picking up his datapad. "You think she'll definitely go for it? She was very good."

"She's very smart. She followed what I was saying. Not that I was subtle." He slouched slightly in the chair and then jammed a knee against the side of the table. "In fact, I was terribly indiscreet, and I think it will work in my favor."

Quatre called up what he had worked on as he whiled away the day waiting for recovery to happen. "I typed up a lot of the papers into French, and then I realized they were never ending so we hacked a translation program to auto translate in real time. Duo helped with the mechanics - it'll transcribe speech to French too." They'd been pretty proud about that - Duo had thought it was Treize's chosen transcription method.

Mostly because Duo thought the man never shut up.

Pot, kettle, but the help had been a godsend. There was a funny off kilter rush of unexpected excitement at what he'd just said. "You put together a translation program for me."

"Well, half stole it," Quatre admitted. "And adapted it. Here, take a look. We can tweak it if necessary. Duo's really good at things like that. The practical parts." He smiled at that rush; only Treize would be that excited about being able to get back to work.

It was a really warm, unexpected excitement, possibly gratitude. "Thank you. You really do know what this means to me." It wasn't a golden flash of warmth, but maybe the closest thing that someone who wasn't Quatre could feel as an emotional response.

It was one of the reasons Quatre did these things. Those moments from Treize were something amazing and wonderful to feel and behold and warmed him. "Well, I'm happy to translate but this way you're not dependent on me and it's easy to ask someone to email over the electronic of a file if they ask you to look at something. I know lots of people who insist on that." One had been simply so they could dial up the font.

His father had done that for ages, because he hadn't wanted to wear glasses when he was out at meetings. "Won't be hard to do," Treize agreed, because most demands he made were acquiesced to. The warm feeling wasn't fading, as he looked at the system, ran a file through it quickly, and then his smile widened when he realized that Quatre had been working with the program directly on Treize's own datapad. "I'm assuming 02 didn't find the cache of... torture pornography or whatever it was he was expecting to find."

Quatre laughed. "I'm pretty sure he looked," he admitted. "Duo's like that - makes him good at what he does. He said he talked to Noin a bit as he was collecting his stuff. Reckons the reason she is in such a quandry is that she wants to stay through the transition, fulfil her duty, but has been too worried to ask Zechs to stay in case he disappears again."

It had been a good idea to do the translator and not that much effort really having appropriated a base translating program. He'd programmed a Gundam, and a Zero system, and tweaking a translator was nothing compared to that.

But it made a world of difference to someone who was struggling with the very task the translator now did smoothly. One didn't consider how much Universal and English there was on everything, if you spoke and read them.

Treize was still smiling, feeling buoyed up by what they'd done. "I also don't want her to stay out of obligation. Yesterday was... frustrating. Mirialdo has a way of putting me on the back foot in a situation, and he knows how to use it to his advantage."

"Maybe you will need to have a conversation with him, clear the air." Quatre was also curious as to how stable Zechs actually was -- he'd want to establish that before anything else, and before Noin made any decisions.

"And with Lady." Treize's mouth pulled a little wryly as he ate his toast. "I'm not sure what it says that my seconds in command have reacted the way they did. Nothing good, hmn?"

"Well people coming back from the dead can have that effect," Quatre answered smiling a little. "And things have been a little exciting around here. It's not been that long since the Eve Wars."

"No, it hasn't." He sipped at his coffee, watching Quatre with a thoughtful expression. "Zechs seemed calm. I'm... unsure how long that will hold. I have more faith in Lady's transition."

"I'd like to get a measure of him, or them both, for Noin's sake," he responded. "If he is still tending towards instability it could be an issue."

"I'll drag you with me when I eventually talk to him." He could almost feel Treize sorting out what he needed to do, prioritizing it; the sensation was much less anxious and overwhelmed than it had been the night before.

That was good to feel, because he felt calmer himself as a result. Quatre let himself relax a little more, feeling signs of Duo coming back to the room from a subtle reach outwards, and considered at the same time what the options were for Mariemaia. They hadn't even considered whether she had a genuine caregiver from L3 - he couldn't imagine Dekim Barton doing the dirty work of raising a child. The same sort of thing had happened with himself and his sisters. His father had overseen their childhood but they'd had someone who looked after them.

Of course, Treize wouldn't humor it one way or another, even if there was someone to be found; he didn't trust L3, would trust anyone who worked for Dekim, potentially kindly nanny or not. And maybe that was Quatre being hopeful.

Treize ate a bit of fruit, and then nudged the tray closer to Quatre, reading through his mail. It was peaceful, an improvement on the craziness of the previous few days.

And then the door opened, and Duo stepped in. "Morning, General DAM. Quatre, hey."

Quatre rolled his eyes a little, knowing Duo was referring to his manwhore comment about Treize. "Morning. Treize likes his translation app by the way."

"It's very effective -- thank you." That Treize didn't even ask what it was about conveyed amusement rather than irritation. "Manwhore, really?"

It caught Duo off guard, and he pulled a face, leaning against the table by Quatre. "I, uh... yeah, why not? I needed another consonant."

Quatre snickered to himself. "Sorry," he said, giving him a half hug with his left arm for dropping him in it. "If it's any consolation I didn't actually say anything."

Treize was still smiling as he finished his coffee, watching them, weirdly pleased and... Content wasn't the right word, but okay. It felt like one of the better days back in Luxembourg. "Man, that's creepy," Duo sighed, leaning into the half hug, and scruffing Quatre's hair. "Are you guys feeling better today? First meeting starts in thirty minutes."

"Yes, I had a good sleep," Quatre said, smiling at that familiar contact and closing his eyes just a moment to bask. He could sense Treize's interest as he did so and carried on. "It would be helpful to know what's been happening behind the minutes of the meeting."

"You mean that Relena's been taking her shit out on Sally since y'all aren't there and Noin's been awol?" Duo snorted, sounding amused.

"Well that sort of thing," Quatre answered. "This seems to be a pattern. No matter what happens, Relena focuses on someone and tries to be queenly at them." It wasn't the best way of describing it but it did appear to be the case. "I suppose she only discovered she was royalty comparatively recently.”

"It's like new money rich. Either they get over their obnoxiousness, or they alienate everyone because they don't know how to behave." Treize sat up, and then stood up, subtly stretching and feeling his own bruises. The headache was sort of low grade, not even bad by Treize's standard. "The father who raised her would be ashamed. I'm hoping she'll come to her senses."

"And what about blondie? What the fuck is his problem?" Duo pressed.

"That's best explained over a couple of gins later this evening, I think. Do you drink?" Treize grabbed a grape.

"Duo generally has my share," Quatre said. His aversion to alcohol was as much a habit rather than any well entrenched religious belief. "I'm hoping at some point to get a read on Zechs." He should have tried harder with Dekim, it might have saved lives. He got up himself, feeling pleased his burns were only achey this morning. That salve was potent.

"Suppose I'll rip the bandage off and approach him today," he quipped, glancing at Quatre thoughtfully. There was a concern again, for his injuries, even as he crossed into the bedroom to grab the rest of his uniform.

He responded back with a little flash of what Treize had idly thought about doing later as a means of making it feel all better as he reached for his uniform jacket. "Be warned, he likes to adjust the jacket to make sure you are up together."

"Yeah, you have no respect for personal space, huh?" Duo half followed, half picked up an apple and considered it both as a food and a weapon.

"It's called respecting your uniform, and being squared away." Treize shrugged into the vest, and started to button it up. He definitely didn't seem to mind having an additional person in his space. "As long as OZ stands, we're going to have standards."

"We weren't trained with uniforms," Quatre said. "Well, maybe Trowa in his past. Possibly Heero."

Trowa had grown up with mercenaries though so maybe uniforms weren't their thing. The Magunacs didn't have an official uniform.

"Odin Lowe was an OZ officer for a time, so I imagine he taught his son proper bearing. For infiltration." Treize adjusted the vest fit slightly, and then pulled the jacket on.

"Wait, what?" Duo was leaning in the doorway, watching. "How much do you know about us?"

"He knows a fair bit," Quatre said. "Possibly more than what we might know about each other in some cases. Or even about ourselves." And if Heero didn't know, then he could come and ask some time. Maybe he'd stop avoiding him.

"The names you chose intrigued me. Heero Yuy was my great uncle -- the real Heero Yuy. Now, someone encouraged 01 to use that name, knowing it would send a message. And perhaps one day he'll be as much of a peacemaker as his namesake. But Odin Lowe Junior, who was raised for a while by his mother and his stepfather, the Clarks, has had a very interesting and hard past."

It all seemed to stun Duo, and Quatre could feel the wheels turning furiously, thinking about deception and sleight of hand.

"Likewise, 03's use of Trowa Barton is contradictory. The man wasn't worth the coffee canister that I hope they put his ashes in."

Quatre rested a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to relax. Treize was demonstrating what he knew as a show of good faith and a little to wind Duo up a bit. He wasn't sure if he had known about Trowa before, but it felt like he had, which might have been the connection talking. "You can pump each other for information later," he said.

"Oh, I plan on it," Duo said, flaring up a little, but he eased back slightly, popping open a couple of buttons on his uniform out of spite.

"Good." Treize turned his attention to Quatre. "Ready?"

"Ready," he said and collected his own datapad ready to pretend at least temporarily that he was a funcional aide-de-camp.

"You're so much more than that." Treize put a hand on Quatre's shoulder, lingering for a moment before he grabbed his own data pad and led the way out of the suite.

"The behind the scenes conversation is creepy," Duo commented as he fell in with them.

"Sorry, spillover," Quatre answered. It had progressed to a partial telepathy, or they were very good at reading the emotional and image based content of each other. "I could pull it in, but it's comfortable."

"Please don't pull it in." That and the outreach that morning had been as much of a comment on preference as Treize had ever made.

Duo shoved his hands into his pockets, and grimaced as they walked. "Yeah. Actually, you two roll in formal and get your seats, and I'm gonna go skip off and see what I can hear."

"Thank you," Quatre said to Duo, because he was trying really hard for them, considering the background, and he would find something useful. Also, not many people would know he was now staying with them rather than Noin, which could provide an interesting lead in.

They would find a way to find out more, and hopefully that night they could all regroup and exchange what they had learned.

There was a good mixed reaction to Treize's entrance to the first meetings; irritation from Relena, and a few others, but mostly relief and a feeling of security. Like everything would work out now, now that OZ was back in the discussions.

Quatre fed most of this over, scouting mentally for who their opposition was, but it was a bit of an eye-opener that Treize was considered so vital for success that there was an almost universal feeling that progress could now be made.

It helped, and Treize nodded, making his way to the colony reps who were still left from L3, first, as a show of goodwill.

They looked faintly surprised but rallied themselves rapidly. "General Khushrenada, I am glad to see that you have recovered so swiftly from your injuries," said the delegate who appeared to have inherited the L3 mantle. "I would like to assure you that our colony had no knowledge of Dekim Barton's plan and we would have wholeheartedly condemned them."

"Have you been able to liaise with the other delegates?" Treize shook his hand, not hesitating as he engaged with them. He still suspected there were Barton backers in the team, but he didn't let the suspicion tinge the interaction. "I know the economic terms and reduction of your military forces were the sticking point." 

He hastily looked up the list of delegates on his datapad as Treize spoke and identified the man as Benjamin Kay, an industrialist in one of the L3 colonies. He was considered popular, but did not have the financial and political sway that Barton had.

"I don't think there will be any issue with regards to the military forces now," he said plainly. "Though for the good of our citizens, we need to protect their wellbeing economically. There was a lot of battle damage in the cluster."

"There was," Treize agreed, shifting slightly from solicitous to calm and faintly solemn. "Before we leave these meetings, we'll have to set up an investigation team to see structurally how Dekim managed to do this without the will of the colony behind him." OZ was already taking care of the battle damage assessment, and Treize knew they'd have access to the information soon.

Benjamin gave a rueful shake of his head. "There is a simple answer -- the Barton Foundation owns most of L3 from the ground up. That's the truth of it."

Quatre could tell it was the truth, but he also didn't see that as a complete reason to let them off the hook. The Winners owning most of L4 hadn't stopped the colony council turning on his father.

And while Quatre wondered who would control that resource now with Dekim dead, and Mariemaia as the last surviving heir, Treize wondered about the weakness of the colony council, and was thinking of jellyfish. "Well, we'll have to work with the holder of those reins in our coming work, won't we?"

"Of course," Benjamin said. "I am sure a man of honour like yourself will deal with the survivors of Barton’s ill-conceived plans with equanimity."

The economics of the situation were going to get complex. There would have to be a group of people who ran the Foundation who were likely to be Barton sycophants and would need to be vetted or replaced. Better to find a known person in the organisation and get them to gut it and replace with the people who were overlooked as Barton favoured people on his side. That would ensure a loyal faction.

Unfortunately he could feel Treize's confusion at the man's statement, fully open, 'have I just had a seizure, because that made no sense' confusion, while the General went quiet. "Come again?"

Kay looked nervous as if realizing he might have overstepped the mark. "Uh, those who weren't directly involved to not be victim-"

"His Excellency is quite aware of the situation," Quatre stepped in. "He was very personally acquainted with what occurred but also recognizes that from the perspective of the other colonies and Earth, L3 was the aggressor and reparations will have to be discussed." He sent a feeling of "quit while you're ahead at the other man' because they did not need Treize to be summarily appointed the defender of L3.

"Yes, but Barton's granddaughter is the main inheritor, and thus the controlling stockholder, so..."

He was not quitting while he was ahead, and Quatre felt Treize's confusion settle. "No, that was what I had thought you were implying. I'm afraid I've been more interested in her health than anything else, so you'll have to forgive me for being silent on the topic until after some lawyers have talked. But, the investigative team. I'm afraid you'll have to open your records to ESUN." 

"I'm sure that could be discussed.." Benjamin said. "But...of course, if that is what needs to be done."

Quatre could practically feel the wash of dismay from the collective of other L3 delegates.

It seemed that Treize had now escalated to the biggest economic power in Earth and space. And it left him more confused than interested, though he was starting to tick that over in the back of his mind; he wished Vingt were still alive, because he'd been trained to handle that amount of... investment and fiscal infrastructure. He'd also enjoyed it, and he hadn't enjoyed fighting.

"It will be. It will be fine, you'll see." He smiled at the man, and added, "I'm afraid I have some discussions I need to finish with L2 -- we'll start coordinating with your team on this access later today."

"Of course, of course," L3 backed off en masse and Quatre was faintly relieved at that because a whole lot of research was going to be needed to untangle that mess.

Treize didn't directly look at him, but he was passing along confusion, shock, and oddly a deep feeling of smug calm that it was only what Dekim deserved. He turned to find L2, to follow up from their previous discussion.

He sent back some reassurance and calm and turned his focus to L2. Mary Winchester was there, and her son Samuel and that was it -- L2 had put their hopes on her it seemed.

"General Khushrenada, congratulations on not dying," she said in that blunt way that Quatre realized reminded him a little of Duo.

It made Treize smile, as if the sheer novelty of it pleased him. "Thank you, I'm rather glad to still be around. I know the negotiations fell to the wayside, and wanted to see if you'd been able to begin some of that follow up we'd discussed."

"Discussions have taken place, but that's not quite negotiations," she said. She was genuinely pleased to see him back which was a big turn around from her initial attitude towards him. "We've drawn up a variety of proposals."

"Do you have any of them handy?" He asked, tilting his head a little and lifting his eyebrows. And that was the other reason people were pleased to see him -- he made things happen.

He could feel everyone's attention focused on them. "Sam, could you send across your proposals to His Excellency?" she said.

"I'll do that right away," he said eagerly and his datapad was out in seconds and there was a ping that indicated a message received.

"Congratulations on achieving more in the first few minutes of your return than we have achieved in the last few days,” Mary said.

"What has the sticking point been?" He asked it quite honestly, interested in removing roadblocks, while he pulled up the message and moved the file through to Quatre and Duo's translation program before opening the results.

"Everyone feels L3 is up for grabs," Mary said in a low voice. "Reparations they are calling it, but basically it's trying to carve it up into bits and got distracted by that because no one here has decision making capabilities on it."

"Shockingly, decision making capabilities unfortunately just entered the room." Without enough research to feel comfortable, but Treize didn't need to feel comfortable to take action. He started to look through the files. "I don't think anyone here wants to seriously start a discussion on reparations. There are more aggrieved parties than earth, and more appropriate targets than L3. Has my colonel signed off on this yet?"

"Colonel Noin has not viewed the last few amendments she requested," Samuel answered. "But in principle she said if they were made that would be acceptable."

Quatre was remaining quiet but he could tell there were no hidden concerns or worries from the Winchesters. They had done what was necessary.

Treize inserted his certification chip into the side of the datapad, and went about signing it on the original universal document. It was tedious, and there were about twelve places. "You must forgive her, she's been reunited with her fiancé. It was most unexpected."

"Ah yes, Relena's brother I believe?" Mary said and Quatre read the document surreptitiously, checking it as Treize signed. "It has certainly been an interesting week to say the least."

"I'm looking forward to going home to something less like this level of excitement," he admitted, signing the last two places for his signature. "I'm sure you are as well. The battle was kept away from L2, thankfully.”

"By the efforts of Gundam 02, they were diverted," she agreed and smiled as he signed the last box. The relief that came from her and her son then was almost overwhelming. It meant a lot to L2 and the colonies there, a way of getting back on their feet, tackling the conditions there. He could practically read the reasons in their feelings.

He sent the file back to Samuel, where it arrived with a ding, and tucked it into his jacket. "He's an exceptional pilot, and person," Treize agreed. "I half think he's going to drop out of the rafters, but he's around here if you'd like to talk to him."

"He is?" Samuel seemed excited by that and was looking around. Quatre found it rather amusing that he didn't even rate a speculative glance as a pilot. "I would very much like to..."

"Could we bring the meeting to order?" Relena asked of the room. "We do have some items of business we ought to address."

"I'll leave you to find your seat. Later we'll see if he's around." He gave them a wave, and turned toward Quatre with a grin as they moved to their spots, apparently amused by the same thing.

"Thank you everyone," Relena said. "And I'm sure I speak for everyone in welcoming General Khushrenada back to the table after his heroic efforts in protecting the Earth and the colonies along with the Gundam pilots and several other pilots able to defend us in our hour of need."

There was genuine appreciation there, which they could certainly capitalise on.

"It is apropos he has returned in time to discuss the proposals put in place by the mysterious plan we all received regarding a defense force," Relena said. "General, have you had a chance to pursue those sections of the document?"

"I have. I have some quibbles with the proposal, but nothing that can't be worked out behind the scenes with our action officers, so if you're ready to put this to a vote..." It was a most casual pushing of someone else's political hand, and Treize was relaxed and easy about it.

The delegates of L1 were the ones that reacted with dismay though they hid it well. "You have no objection to OZ being effectively disbanded?"

Rebranded, not disbanded. L1 was trying to stir up trouble. It remained an autonomous force of excellence, but it was beholden to the law rather than to a nation. Quatre sighed internally. It would be about them having mobile suits and the potential for the organisation to go rogue.

"Folded into the Preventers, as per the supporting super structure for the rule of law. We went by the name Specials for fifteen years; the name suited us for what needed to be accomplished." He sipped from the water glass in front of him, looking toward Delegate Moran. "The work we must accomplish has changed."

"But have the last few days not shown us what mech can do in the hands of one individual?" Augustus said. "The disarmament agreement should apply to all."

"If you turn to the OZ proposal for disarmament, you'll see what we're reducing our numbers to as well. Page, blast, page 11, table 2. The forces that remain will be in service of our shared elected government."

"So you agree that the Commander of the Preventers should also be elected?" Augustus sounded like he was making a point. Quatre disliked the feeling that he wanted everything to benefit him personally.

"The commander of the preventers should be a career position. If one is running for election, one will make military choices to be viewed in a favorable light. This is what happened with the Alliance, and I can't say any of us want a repeat? Now, as the head of the L1 militia forces, your son should absolutely be part of the new leadership cadre. And who is in that cadre is something for the delegations to argue out at length over these next few weeks."

Quatre sensed agreement with most of the delegates in the room. Noone wanted a repeat and there were more than a few who were just connecting the dots with Moran's ambitions, now that Barton was dead.

"Well put," Iria said and he found himself looking at his sister and wishing he'd had a chance to speak to her sooner. She was looking at him most of the time not Treize and his disappearing trick was not working on her. "I presume as part of these negotiations you will release the prisoners of war you have in custody?"

"Yes. I thought it inappropriate to take them as prisoners in the first place, and now find it more of a challenge to justify than ever before given what they just risked for all of us." As if he hadn't been out there himself. He met Iria's gaze firmly, held it. "And they're all here in the meetings today; you don't know their faces, and I'm sure most of them would like to be private citizens when this is done. That's their choice. But they've never once conducted themselves in a way that makes me doubt their intentions toward the new government."

That caused an audible babble of speculation and Quatre just kept quiet, and he could feel the same intention from the others, though Duo toyed briefly with the shock value of dropping out of nowhere onto the conference table.

"It must be said that we owe them our lives and the collective safety of the Earth Space United Nations," Iria said and Quatre recognized that for what it was. A thank you and admittance that he was right, in a manner of speaking.

"Yes. You do. Which is why one of the proposals that should have been on the docket today was toward the readmittance of the pilots into normal society." He checked his datapad for the item in the agenda.

"Equally however, the reason they were considered prisoners of war in the first place still stands," one of the representatives from the Earth factions said. "They did commit atrocities in the name of war. They came to Earth with a view to destroying and attacking military bases."

Missions, Quatre remembered, all those missions and connecting the dots between them all.

"Ah." Treize smiled softly, and took another sip of water. "And what about our atrocities? I should be in irons as well, if we're discussing fairness. As well as most of the security officers who just protected Earth from L3's invasion. And while you arrest me, are you comfortable that you haven't funded or otherwise backed a violent action against the colonies or other countries on earth, Delegate Treicle?"

He definitely was not and Quatre fed that over to Treize, though he was sure he had his own intelligence on the man.

"It is time to look forward to the future," Relena interrupted. "I would propose that the Gundam pilots are pardoned of any war crimes and their defence of Earth and the colonies act in lieu of any perceived penance."

Rather than adding anything, Treize gestured to Relena with one arm, and then stood up to clap. It would require of course paperwork, but that was what the room was full of. People who could do paperwork and had the authority. Quatre wondered what it meant, if it meant soon.

Treize had a good line in creating a following because he had most of the room joining him with that acclaim, and that was sneaky because it meant that a motion could be passed through acclaim as well as a formal vote.

"We shall put a team to work to determine the details," Relena said and of course it benefited her to have Heero actually choose to stay rather than be forced to stay.

It benefitted anyone who was sane to have people choose to stay, rather than to be prisoners. Treize was very carefully not thinking about what came next, which Quatre supposed was more polite than cutting the link.

He sent back feelings of reassurance. It was okay, whatever happened. He'd been scared and resigned and more than a little self-destructive the first time around believing that they had deserved the judgement or he had at least. Dorothy's words had lodged deep inside his psyche, backed with the knowledge she was in Zero at the time and he had taken it on board as being his fault.

Treize on the other hand had been insistent it wasn't Quatre's fault, both with words and general interest. And yet...

And yet if it was soon, what did he do? Go home? Was there a place for him on L4 in their future? And what did he want to do?

He didn't know exactly, aside from the fact that he found it difficult to imagine not having Treize’s presence there in his thoughts, that warmth and... need. He needed to be needed, he could admit that and it made sense for an empath. Did he want to run Winner Enterprises? Not particularly, though the family duty to produce an heir would have him signing away rights to that no doubt.

Given that his family tended to clone... That was easily managed. He was good at construction, at everything he'd done with his father, but he had really enjoyed what he'd done on the Plan.  
The applause died down, and one of the mediators signalled that it was a time for a break, and that voting would commence in an hour. That would give the delegations time to talk first among themselves and for any necessary horsetrading. Treize leaned in to whisper into his ear, "I'd like you to stay. If you're interested. But I think you need to talk to your sister. Or perhaps have dinner with her."

"I could talk to her a little now," he said. "If everything is okay with you.” Treize was on form, already having completed one deal, initiated another cut through endless wrangling. He wasn't sure what he would say to his sister but she was probably expecting the worst.

"I'm doing brilliantly, thank you for asking." He winked at Quatre, or tried to, but with one eye gone it mostly looked like a hard blink, and Treize smirked at him. "Go, I'll see what other trouble I can get into myself."

He nodded and then made his way over to Iria waiting patiently as she tried to wrap up her existing conversation to talk to him.

"Hello Iria, it's been a while," he said trying to feel for her reactions.

Worried and welcoming, concerned for him, pride, all at once. "Quatre, you look tired. But it's so good to see you." 

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you before," he apologised. "There hasn't been the circumstances or time."

She stepped away from the others in the delegation, and reached out to hug him. "We've missed you. Rashid has been on the edge of coming to rescue you for weeks now, but we've kept him at bay."

He winced a little at the hug, trying to conceal that from her. "How is Rashid? He didn't need to worry about me."

"He did after we saw that picture. But..." Iria lingered close, watching his face. "We have our own intel capabilities, and the man had been in our house before. I didn't think it was as it seemed."

"It wasn't Treize," he said. "Well it was his blood, not mine and the bruise was because I was trying to stop him bleeding out and got knocked around. I was really fine. "

"And how are you now? Do you want to come home? We all miss you. Oud misses you." The sister closest to him in age, rather than the eldest. 

"I'm fine," Quatre said. "Some injuries still and ...I'm okay here. I'm helping work for peace but I'd like to see Oud."

"Working for peace from a gundam." She smiled a little, and reached out to touch his cheek. "Can you visit? Come to L4?"

"Let's see how the vote goes," Quatre said. "And it would depend on the elections but I'm in no hurry to come back and run Winner Enterprises."

"Have dinner with the rest of us tonight. We can talk about it then. Or tomorrow if that's easier for you, I know you're tired. You need to rest more and I shouldn't impose." That was the problem with most of the family right there.

Sometimes there was such a thing as being too polite.

He flashed back to what his 'plans' were for that evening. "Perhaps tomorrow? I was only released yesterday and I suspect I would be very tired by the time we are done here."

An evening laying flat on his back on a very comfortable bed, having every unbruised inch of him touched, stroked and kissed sounded much more relaxing than dinner at just that moment. "Of course, of course. Please take your time and think about what you would like, outside of running Winner Enterprises. You're still the heir..." Nevermind that he was the youngest. The one male, and he was the sole heir which was a burden he would be more than happy to pass on to Iria or Irina.

"You know there are ways around that," he said sowing the seed. "And frankly, there is no reason why one of the Winner sisters cannot run things and have credit for doing so. I believe Iris has been running the day to day operations for years. We can discuss it at dinner tomorrow, but initially, I believe I will be needed to help maintain and implement this peace."

He wanted to help maintain and implement the peace. He felt Iria look past him for a moment, to Treize in discussion with Sally and Noin, and then to Relena and the Sanc delegation talking with L1. She wanted to say something there, but held back, nodded at his words instead. "Of course. If they're taking you seriously. I want you to be happy."

Half of him wanted to say it was his plan they were all voting on, and negotiating. They couldn't reconcile in their heads that he wasn't the baby brother they doted on and remembered. He could practically read it, the memories of him being sweet and kind, gentle and funny. They just didn't gel with the Quatre who fought in the war, a Gundam pilot who could strategise, plan, create.

"And I want the same for you."

They wanted him back home, to protect him, to keep him. They meant well, but it hurt just then, that he couldn't, wouldn't say anything just yet to shake them of their perception. It seemed to confuse her, but she smiled at him. "Tomorrow night, the L4 suites. 1900?" That would give him time after the meetings to change out of uniform if he wanted to, and nap if he needed to.

Maybe Treize could use the time to talk with Duo or Zechs without him getting in the way. "I'll be there," he promised. He needed to have a check on how Winner Enterprises was doing, and the opportunities they shouldn't miss. "Don't worry Iria, I'm okay."

"I worry. You're my little brother." She leaned in to hug him again, brief and gentle. "I want you to be safe and home again, where you belong. These people are... they don't understand you." She meant it, she meant every word, as she let go.

It was more like she didn't understand who he had become, some of it willingly, some of it unwillingly. He wasn't sure if he would be able to break that perception without it becoming ugly. It meant he was going to have to either lie, or force them to see a truth they didn’t want to see. He had killed - with regret and remorse and pain each time, but they couldn't force something that bloomed in war to become a bud again. He nodded to her and returned to Treize.

The moment he stepped toward the knot of conversation, Treize shifted, opening the circle to let Quatre in; he felt surprised that Wufei was at Sally's side, standing between her and Noin, directly across from Treize, who was flipping through something again on his datapad. "You're unfortunately going to have to live with OZ's probably bizarre seeming acquisition choices," he was saying to Sally, while showing something else to Noin. "But I'll try to get the comms folks to get you credentialed and onto the network tonight."

He moved fast when he saw a solution he liked. Quatre smiled at Wufei, actually feeling an undercurrent of something from the other pilot that he didn't quite understand. That was unusual, Wufei was usually hard to read.

"That would be very useful," Sally said with a nod. "It would help the merging process immensely. Noin and I are experienced in working together so the practical issues I am certain we can resolve."

Did that mean that Noin had persuaded Zechs to stay for a period of time then? It sounded like it.

Whether that was an assumption or a fact, Treize felt calm, smooth, determined. The undercurrent between him and Wufei was strange, mostly respect from Treize, interest and at the same time an unwillingness to address it. "I'm certain you can. The three of you."

That sounded like Wufei was staying on as well. Interesting. He wanted to speak to Wufei at some point, work out why he seemed to be avoiding him. Maybe he was uncomfortable around his newtype abilities but like before he hadn't visited him hospital. Plus, Wufei and Treize definitely needed to talk, to work out whatever that connection was between them; at the very least he thought they could be friends.

Mind, he'd thought the same about his connection with Heero and that...was not working out so well at the moment.

Sometimes Quatre wondered if there was any advantage to these emotional abilities at all - having the information without context often led to incorrect assumptions. He tended to tinge things with hope and optimism and that... had not worked out optimistically for him so far, had it?

Whatever he had shown Noin was passed to Quatre next, just so he could see that it was a very hastily drawn up merger agreement.

He studied it carefully, seeing immediately a couple of points that had been overlooked, as well as paragraphs that could be tightened up to the benefit of all. "May I... just add a couple of things?" he murmured to Treize.

"Of course." He passed him the pad without hesitation; there were a few odd phrases in the document as well, and it told him that it had originally been written in French, at some speed, and then back translated to universal. "Quatre has been rather instrumental in sanding the rough edges off of my writing recently."

"Oh I see," Sally said. "Maybe he could talk Wufei into doing that for me," she said dryly. Quatre smiled and moved through the document at speed, tidying it and adding in several other points he had considered when writing his plan in terms of personnel and development as well as the legal process of exactly who controlled the Preventers. There needed to be capacity there for future expansion - Mars colony was developing and would soon be a secondary power base. He missed some of their additional talking, and handed it over again to Treize.

It wasn't as polished as he would have liked, wasn't as nuanced, but it would do. Without glancing at it, he signed the last page, and sent the file to Sally. "I think that's probably enough damage for one day before the voting starts." 

A vote on their future, to start with. Though Treize had clearly signaled which way he would be voting, it was still a little nerve wracking to say the least. It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

He had worried about the vote, but it had passed unanimously, and that meant both everything and nothing because he wasn't sure what the immediate implications were, and if he could or should out himself as one of the newly soon to be freed pilots. Treize gave no indication either way, and had carried on voting as expected; none of the OZ decisions were surprises.

The meeting regarding the new peacekeeping organisation had been sped along massively by Treize and Sally's hasty merger agreement. Half that battle had been dealt with and the resulting time had been spent wrangling over the elected ESUN body's powers with relation to how they could deploy the Preventers, what powers the Preventers had to police ESUN hierarchy and what laws would contribute to the body of law they were going to uphold.

That was going to take a lot of time; surprisingly Samuel Winchester of L2 had been very forthright and clear in his points and objections to taking some Earth laws en masse - and as a reward had been delegated the task of organising the legal teams to come up with unified set of laws and where those ended and local law began.

Quatre had been sent to go and get the jangling pill festival that was both his and Treize's meds as the talks wore down and the obligatory dinner loomed, and as he collected them and headed back he sensed a familiar presence.

Zechs.

The only member of OZ who ever targeted him personally in battle.

That the man was near their suites during what was really a break period -- although when Treize was on a roll, very little seemed to stop him -- was interesting. And he had been trying to get a bead on the man, to try to figure out what was going on. Perfect opportunity.

"Oh, hello."

"Hello Zechs," he replied. "I'm afraid Treize is not here at the moment." He let his sense go, not pushing but allowing it to just seep across so he could see how he was.

If Treize was emotionally... delicately balanced and striving for calm, Zechs was an emotional black hole, a swirling vortex of feelings and yearnings and things he wanted -- wanted to have and keep, wanted to do, needed to achieve.

Instantly the compulsion kicked in and he mentally slammed up a shield so he didn't tumble in but it was like holding onto a tree branch in a tornado. "Can I help you?"

He felt, distantly, the sharp sudden hauling up from Treize that was like someone throwing him a rope to add to the tree branch in the tornado. "I..." He looked toward the closed door, then to Quatre. "I did want to talk to Treize today. Are you really working with him?"

"Yes? He has been very kind, considering my position," Quatre said standing there, wondering if he should start walking. "As it happens, we both want the same things right now so working with him seemed the logical thing to do."

Zechs eyed him, contemplating his words in a way that made Quatre want to walk away. "He does tend to suck people into following him. What..." Zechs reached for his jaw, touched it, lifting his chin to look at him and he moved away too late.

The vortex had him, no matter how hard Treize pulled back on him. If Treize has been a swirl of glass shards suspended in the air, ready to cut at every turn or movement, Zechs was a blast furnace of anger and fear and hatred, crystallized in when Sanc fell the first time.

He could feel it, all of it the moment when the pendulum of Zechs’ sanity was sent swinging in the death and fire, and he needed to get himself orientated because the memories were diamond sharp and could tear him apart. Old memories could do that and like with Treize it was like being trapped in a vortex of flying glass. No, he'd thought about how this worked, he'd practiced and he could do this. As the ashes of Sanc choked the younger Zechs, he reached through that defensive barrier and took hold of him linking to the core and following the emotion in the other man.

He was afraid, he was forever afraid of losing everything again, and it kept him from holding onto anything, from being the first person to throw away stability at the least sign it was threatened, and the thread was more like a chain rope from that moment all the way forward to the present.

It tugged at Zechs all the time, kept that pendulum swinging and he could stop that at least. The golden energy came when he called it, illuminating those darker times, filling and healing gaps, and he had to work damn hard on that chain, each link an episode of madness.

But underneath it, he could feel Zechs just as he had Treize and it was hard not to start caring if you truly understood someone. He worked on the link in his mental grip, falling into another memory of madness and devastation.

The battle at Marius, being unmasked, though he hadn't yet worn a mask, identified by the son of a general who had worked to level his home and murder his father, his mother, who had ruined his family, and now took away the Specials, Noin, Treize, his friends, made him have to flee.

He was alone, again alone and he was so weak. He needed to be able to be someone who could be stronger, better, more honorable than who he was. He wasn't his fathers son, he had burned that bridge when he had tried to follow a path of revenge. He couldn't be the Lightning Count and a Peacecraft - they cancelled out leaving him as nothing.

Quatre pulled that link hard, taking the sting from the mental anguish with the emotions he used to damp everything. The metal simulacrum of a chain became a mask in his hands and shattered letting the chain whip away and coil...and lose that manic momentum.

"Help me get them out of the hallway." There were hands under his arms, and he was being pulled up, clutched close against a familiar chest for a moment before he was deposited into a chair. "Hah, fuck, yes, thank you." There was silence for a moment, and then he was sure he felt Treize unbuttoning his jacket.

"You said get him juice."

"Both of them, yes."

He could hear and feel that but his mind was still working, the last bits of the golden energy flying loose around them finding its way into Treize and...Duo, that was Duo and the connection broke off leaving him panting for breath and sweating from the effort of it.

But he was okay, he was...okay and he needed to tell Treize not to worry. He should be in the meeting. And Zechs, was he okay? Maybe he would be sick like Treize had been and he needed to open his eyes.

"Easy. Easy. I'll have to go back, because no one is going to be happy about how I ran out of there, but this was distressing." There was a glass pressed against his lips. "You completely exceeded my abilities. That's the norm for you."

"What... what was that?" Zechs, groggy and confused.

Duo declared, "You had a weird nightmare, and you passed out in the hallway. You've been doing drugs, man?"

"I'm okay," he said again and he drank the juice, getting the sugar of the fruit into him. He wasn't sure if Zechs was going to believe that, and it was possible that Noin knew anyway but he was grateful to Duo for trying. "It was an accident."

"Yes, it was." Treize was crouched down in front of him, with a hand steadying himself on Quatre's thigh, when he opened his eyes and focused on the room. There was blood on his shirt, but he'd wiped most of it off his face. "I need to start putting an emergency kit in your pockets. Do you need more juice?"

"No, I wasn't doing drugs. What the hell."

"Would you... like to?" Duo was stalling as Zechs sat up. "Your man there has an amazing collection of sedatives, muscle relaxants, antibiotics and painkillers."

Quatre giggled slightly, feeling a bit woozy still so he nodded yes to the extra juice. He really did have half a pharmacy here. "Duo, it's okay," he said. He couldn't in all conscience let Zechs go around thinking he had a psychotic break. He was okay, he was much better than the first time it had happened with Treize.

It helped that Zechs hadn't been physically sick, which Treize had.

"I'm trying, man. I'm trying." Duo was standing between them and Zechs, like he could protect them if Zechs moved. Instead, the blond man sat up, and ran a hand through his hair.

"You were in my memories."

"Yes, that... is something Quatre can do. Not on purpose, not maliciously," Treize said quickly, getting the juice for Quatre.

"You touched my face," Quatre said. "It.. .can sometimes force a link if there is a...need for help." And there had been a need, although how much help his actions would have on the other man was debatable. Most likely it would stop the swinging issues, though he still had all the other things to deal with. He was still unmedicated manic depressive of some type.

"You saw all of that?"

Felt it, experienced it. He nodded at that, taking the drink from Treize again and downing it rapidly.

"So you can imagine we've had some traumatic trial and error over the past few weeks," Treize said, crouching down again as if inspecting that Quatre was okay, and looking over at his shoulder at Zechs. Zechs knew some, whispered confessions huddled together when they were much younger, shared confusions.

"I see." Zechs took the juice from Duo and drank it down looking like he wished it contained something stronger. "What did you do?" he asked. "I felt something different."

"I uh...It is difficult to describe," Quatre said. "I broke a link between your early emotional traumas and the present day emotions? It stops feeding them and making them...unbalanced - I've not taken anything away, just stopped them draining your energy and having a bad effect."

"It hasn't negatively impacted me. It feels strange, for a few days." Treize wasn't sure he could reassure his old friend, wasn't sure where to start as he stood up, straightened up. His uniform jacket was looking like it needed to be swapped out. "I suppose it's the adjusting period when one is accustomed to mentally being a bag of cats."

Duo snorted louder than the light joke warranted.

"I'm not sure how I feel about it," Zechs said. "That was not the sort of thing I was prepared for. There was a reason you were my key target in our battles. You are full of surprises, Quatre." That was quite a mild reaction Quatre considered, to having your mind and emotions invaded.

"I hope I didn't hurt you."

Treize shifted away to give Quatre space, leaning against the table's edge.

"I..." Zechs hesitated, and shook his head. "I did not expect that."

"You can take a moment to get yourself together if you need to." Treize started to try to unbutton the bloody jacket, watching Quatre with a fondness, and Zechs with wary suspicion.

Such a reversal when some of the times Treize had looked at Zechs like that floated through his mind, and he knew Zechs was experiencing it too

"You know, I was hoping you two would talk sometime," Quatre said. "Resolve what happened."

"I'm not sure there is anything to resolve," Zechs answered and without the contact he’d had that would have come across as arrogant, instead of the defeated tone Quatre could now read.

"There is. You have a complicated history together," Quatre suggested.

Treize leaned his hand back against the table, thinking, meddling and thank you at Quatre at the same time in equal, honest measure for both. "Perhaps we should talk."

"Private, I suppose," Duo suggested, eyeing Quatre. "Allright step one, you're going to bed. You look fucking half dead."

"I'll be fine after a nap," he protested although he got up to make his way to the bedroom. He was still hoping for his promised fun with Treize but that was exhausting and when he took the meds, he was likely to drop off.

"Private would be best." Zechs agreed.

"Yeah, sure. I'll get dinner delivered in." Duo still helped him into the master bedroom, starting to take his uniform off for him. "You should sleep with your boots on just to get dust everywhere. Cause it'd be funny."

Distantly he could hear Treize saying something to Zechs about leaving and heading to the other suite to carry on their conversation without upsetting Quatre's sleep.

He rather liked the contact from Duo and he just closed his eyes, to rest them just a little and that was enough to tip him into sleep.

* * *

Treize pulled his datapad and chips out of the jacket pockets, and tucked it awkwardly into his half unbuttoned vest. He wrote a note to one of his staff, to please take the jacket away to be cleaned, and he took a moment to wipe his face with a handkerchief, looking sideways at Zechs as he did so. "Nose bleeds. Complete pain in the ass, and between that and the crash I'm out of uniforms -- so, shall we adjourn?"

Zechs nodded and for once, Treize did not feel on the back foot with him. Instead he recognized for once it was the other man who felt that way; rattled, uncertain. "Noin will not be there until after the dinner," he said, getting up trying to cover it well and headed for the door.

It was a relief to not feel defensive and tight and struggling to interact with Zechs. His head was killing him, and perhaps that was a relief because it made it harder to overthink. "I didn't mean to apply guilt yesterday. I was out of sorts."

"It was for the best," Zechs answered. "I did not realize that Noin was not discussing everything she felt with me."

"Shocking, the two of you being unable to communicate," Treize quipped lightly as they headed for the stairwell. He was sore and tired and like hell he was going to get caught in an elevator with Zechs.

"It would seem my skills have not improved despite all those points to improve on my performance reports," Zechs answered. "Bullshit on the other hand..."

He wasn't going to take that as a barb lodged at him, though it could have been. It probably was. "You never had any tolerance for, unfortunately. What arrow does that inspire you to throw at me today?"

"I.. don't want to throw any arrows at you," and Zechs seemed as surprised at that as he was as they made their way down the stairwell. "I just wanted to talk to you. To explain perhaps." He seemed oddly taken aback by his own openness and Treize remembered a little belatedly his own uncharacteristic openness after the two incidents with Quatre. Perhaps it was a side effect.

He wondered how long it lasted and what the final impact was. "You owe me no explanation. You fired on earth."

Zechs remained silent until he opened the door to their rooms and shut it behind him. "At the time. I believed it the only way," he said and it wasn't what he had been expecting. Maybe some excuses, or inveigling him into an argument that he was following Treize's master plan.

Zechs' dip into madness and White Fang had not been his master plan -- drawing out the Barton threat from the colonies had been his plan. Now accomplished, unexpectedly, months later. "Everything in the plan fell apart after you chased after 01 to Antarctica."

"I know. I know I put you in an untenable position," Zechs grimaced and moved to pour himself a drink. "You want something? I was struggling to reconcile the fact that the warrior I was fighting against was barely more than a child and I was struggling to get rid of weakness in myself. I made my own personal issues more important than what we had been working for." He huffed a laugh. "Is a side effect of this...empathy thing unfiltered honesty?"

"Not really. Occasionally it allows you to reconsider one's situation." He watched Zechs pour the drink, and invited himself to sit down, just so it would place a set distance between them. "Was I anything but gracious to you both when you decided you needed to, what was it? 'Grow up, and spend your time on a relationship with someone who was capable of love.' And god bless Noin for that, she is devoted to you."

"She is, and I know truly that I do not deserve that love," he replied. "Which is an irony is it not? No, Treize, you were ever gracious and...tolerant and there were many times where I bitterly regretted that separation. Things do seem clearer now though. I was pushing you away, fighting you because you were connected with the part of myself I felt was betraying my upbringing, my family. I was not aware I was doing that at the time though. It's not an excuse but...a reason."

He watched Zechs standing by the small bar in the suite, watched his body language, his posture. Treize knew every inch of the man, and it was all familiar as he watched him hold his drink. "You achieved what you were seeking. I missed you; you were my only friend."

"That was perhaps my biggest regret." He knocked back the drink and grimaced before coming and sitting opposite him. "I threw away the friendship that kept me on an even keel."

"Yes." He leaned back in the chair, and inhaled slowly, trying to turn it over in his mind. "I don't know how to fix this."

"I think...I came to try and talk to you wanting to say these things but also sure I would not say it," Zechs answered. "I was going to blame Zero I think. But I had the choice."

"Was saying these things to me supposed to..." Treize crossed his legs, and then caught himself, his posture, a feeling of shutting down and closing up. "I don't know. I just don't know anymore." 

"I apologise. I did spend a lot of time on Mars considering my actions." Zechs said. "I...tried to destroy everything and all I can say is now I am appalled at that. I most definitely intended to die in my final battle with 01, to fulfil the vision Zero had given me of how to ensure war would never occur again. I went to it willingly after hearing you had died. So when he defeated me, without killing me, something snapped back. I tried then to pay a penance for what I had done."

"You abandoned Epyon in good shape, which I'm grateful for. And as you noticed, not dead." He tapped the eyepatch, and of course, the scarring on that side of his face. Now Quatre had electrical burns like that all over the side of his body. "Though I did try my damndest."

"It was close enough," Zechs said. "That everyone believed it. The devastation I caused, I wanted to be on me so it would die with me...isn't that what you were doing too?

"Yes and no. I wanted the symbol of Treize Khushrenada, of OZ, to die. Because I stood for war, because I am still war. The symbolism would have been... perfect. And yet I'm still here, still war itself. I can't surrender our forces on camera without an assassination attempt. I am so fucking tired."

He could say that to Zechs, and Zechs just nodded. "There was a freedom in being 'dead'," he admitted. "It felt like I could let go of it."

"Have you?" He had thought over and over that it would be easy, and over and over it slipped through his fingers. It seemed that the heavens simply didn't want him.

"For the first few days, yes..." Zechs said. "And then everything came back. I was recovering from some injuries and had little choice but to think of the precipice of disaster to which I brought everyone."

"Yes, injury does lead to introspection. And what did you decide?" There was no need to throw salt in the wound, though he vaguely had an urge to, irritated.

"That no matter what, when presented with the opportunity, I will fight. Despite my bloodline and heritage," Zechs said. He drank again. "It sounds simple when I say it outloud."

"It does." He lifted his eyebrows at Zechs, watching him swig at his drink. "I didn't struggle with that the same way you did. I'm sorry for not quite understanding. There's... a joy in battle, in the skill of it, in the skill of the enemy. I'm afraid I've fought my last battle."

"If something or someone attacks you'd still try to fight no matter how inadvisable it was." Zechs said and sighed. "If I had realized that before I might have controlled Zero. As it was it...burned in my head even after I left Epyon until I spent most of my time there between battles. I became convinced the way to stop war, to kill the will for war as we discussed was to instil a fear so intense history would never forget it."

"You didn't need to cross sides and make it worse." That was what he'd been waiting for, the turn toward him, and it took effort to remain composed. "What do you want to do, now?"

"To be with Noin, to...make amends at the least and rekindle friendships at best," Zechs said quietly. "To find a way to live with what I did."

"Then you need to do that." His mouth twisted a little. "I need to find a way to live."

"I have been selfish talking about myself," Zechs said. "You give the impression of having all the answers, Treize. How are you really?"

"I've been grooming Noin to take my place, without thinking if that was what she wanted." Treize shifted, pulled his sidearm out from where it was nestled against his side, and turned it around, holding onto the muzzle as he held it out to Zechs.

Zechs stared at him. "What are you doing Treize?" he said warily, not taking it.

He sighed, and sat back, tossing it, and catching it by the muzzle again. "Apparently very little. Some days I put this on, and I have to talk myself out of finishing it off, because I'm not done yet. So I was lining Noin up for the day I can't do this anymore."

Zechs looked at him again. "And me turning up made you feel like you were trapped again," he stated rather than asked.

He tossed it one more time, and then put it back into the holster, closing it with familiar care. "I'll find another way out, but yes."

"Perhaps it is as well you have an empath on your staff," Zechs said, tossing back the rest of his drink. "We should have shared where we were before."

Sometimes he wondered about John's declaration that his brain hadn't gone to mush. "I'm sorry, where were we?"

"Mentally. It seems you and I shared more of the same tendencies than I thought." Zechs answered.

"Funny, I always thought we shared these tendencies." He lifted his eyebrows at Zechs, mouth pulling wryly. "I hope you and Noin enjoy Mars. Eventually."

"She has done so much for me, I will follow her lead," he replied. "We will be present until we are not needed. I do need to know one thing Treize. Do you believe we could ever find our way back to being friends?"

"I think we could. If you stop treating me like an adversary to be defeated. I'm stretched too thin right now to deal with that." It was probably time to go, and he wondered what excuse he could make for that amount of bleeding, because he'd have to come up with something.

"I would like that," Zechs said. "I hope we haven't inconvenienced you too much taking on Maxwell."

He waved one hand dismissively. "Just one more thing. It makes Quatre happy. He..." He let his eyes skim the room, settling on Zechs' familiar face. "Does a great deal for me. Has made this terrible and bearable at the same time."

"I would not have understood that until I experienced it for myself," Zechs agreed. "Terrible to remember but something...to feel that acceptance, a complete compassion that did not judge only wanting to help." He shook his head. "I would say let him help more Treize, you personally, not just the peace." 

"I think you're well familiar with the limits I have when it comes to relating to other people," he said wryly, picking at the wound himself but oh, it had been correct. "I need to go. I felt him lose consciousness, failed to pull him up, and burst a blood vessel all over my good uniform. Second time in as many days taking the stage. So, I have to get back and come up with a convincing lie."

"The images of the battle and the spectacular crash you had at the end have been hitting the media sites," Zechs said. "Don't over complicate it. Say you were warned it might happen from the hospital, and leave it at that and they can all nod sagely about medications and how you must have broken your nose in the crash."

"I didn't even crash my own mech. That has to be a record." He winked, a habit which he realized lost its utility when you were down to one eye. He stood up, leaving Zechs with his drink. "You're welcome to rejoin us, or stay on the sidelines."

Zechs nodded. "I will discuss how disruptive my presence will be with Noin. Thank you for taking time to speak to me Treize. I appreciate it."

"Of course. I would like... to be your friend again." And if it went south, he could cut him off again. He hoped it didn't go south. Treize went to the door to see himself out, to head back to the dinner for a few minutes at least before retiring to his room.

He could play the wounded hero if he needed to, but he'd been doing such a good job of faking he was well recovered it seemed somehow like cheating. He wondered if Duo had stayed with Quatre or had come back to the dinner. He wouldn't have to spend too long there.

Just a duck in, apologize to Relena and Dorothy, as he'd been mid conversation with them and leave, having made an appearance. He snuck back in through a side door -- security nightmare for 01 -- and stopped briefly at the table where he'd been seated to make his apologies and promises of follow up the next day.

He brushed off the expressions of concern with the vague sort of assurances Zechs had suggested and hastily made his way to Relena.

And as he was walking over he realized that yes, Sanc had cameras everywhere now. 01 had that whole clusterfuck on film. That was interesting, and he wondered what else 01 had on film from that week.

"Queen Relena. I wanted to apologize for my hasty departure earlier."

"General, I do hope you are well. We were most concerned for you," Relena replied. There was a chance Yuy had not given her much detail if any, so he had to be circumspect.

"I'm afraid I'm out of the hospital a bit sooner than I ought to have been. You'll have to forgive me for leaving so very early tonight, I'm going to rest up for the last round of negotiations tomorrow." It was 1800, which meant he was bowing out of probably a good six hours of work he could accomplish, but it was a terribly sensible statement.

"We quite understand," Relena answered formally. "I am personally grateful that you have cut your recovery time so short so you could attend today. Great progress has been made."

Good. It meant he could go back and check on Quatre and rest a bit and maybe fulfill his promise.

He might have to do it with both of them laying down, but that was enjoyable, too. "Yes, it has. Thank you again for your hospitality, Queen Relena." Treize perhaps stretched what was allowed in terms of protocol by leaving then, bowing to her and taking a step backward before turning. She could have a whole evening without worrying he was going to show up or make things worse.

There were some mutterings as he went past, more speculative than anything and then he was out of the room and headed back to his own. It couldn't come soon enough. He wanted some peace and something more of a connection with somebody or something otherwise he was going to have to drink himself blind.

They could speculate all they liked; if they thought he was gravely injured all it wounded was his chances at running for office, which he wasn't doing. They could run laps around the room for all he wanted.

It was a relief to get back into the suite, and to stop by the large table they were using as a dumping site. There was still a bit of dinner out, and Treize stood there, snacking while he tried to sort out where his head was at.

"Hey man," Duo stuck his head out of his room. "Made your escape? Wondered if Zechs might have pulled another personality implosion."

It almost sounded as if he cared if something had happened.

"He's fine, albeit stunned." Treize started to offload his pockets into the table, and shrugged out of his vest to have it join the jacket when someone came by. "I made my apologies. How is he?"

"Sacked out pretty pronto," Duo said. "I didn't want to leave him so..." So he'd hung around and worried about him by the sounds of it. "He is okay right?"

"Whatever he touched in Zechs, he relived. It's..." Treize ate a bit of lunch meat that seemed to have been what Duo had asked for. Apparently, pizza and sandwiches were indeed haute cuisine for L2. "I can't say it will have been anything enjoyable. Think about your worse experiences. You survived it once, or a hundred times. You wouldn't wish it on anyone, would you?"

"Shit man, I didn't realize he got to do the experience too," Duo said grimacing at the thought of that. "I thought it triggered something for them. No wonder he was freaked when we were making calls."

"Oh yes. He had good reason to be freaked out." He quirked an eyebrow at Duo and took a swig of water from one of the bottles that had been abandoned earlier in the day. "I had no designs on harming him while we were getting a hang of it, but we were randomly reliving my worst moments. And now they're lodged in his head, my memories from the wars, pretty much every assault I've ever endured. So how does that work? Having a vivid memory of rape or injury that felt real, that you rode along on. A person isn't simply... okay after that."

"He seems to be doing okay," Duo said, glancing towards the bedroom. "I mean on a scale of normal Quatre to holy crap bat-shit insane Quatre, which is frankly pretty damn terrifying, don't ever come across that if you can help it."

"This isn't a right now challenge. This is a long term challenge." It was frustrating, and he wished he could say any of it in more detail to explain better. "You're fine right now, too. Right? No problems, everything bad that's ever happened to you is great, right?" His voice went a little harder because he knew the answer was 'no'.

Duo shifted a bit uncomfortably. "You know, I'm gonna go out, because that stuff is opening a whole can of worms that will blow up in both our faces and Quatre doesn't need that. So, yeah, go...look after him. I'll be back later."

He clenched his jaw, and shifted, took a step away from Duo. "I'm sorry. I don't... I'm sorry. My own control is frayed right now. Perhaps we can open the can of worms some time when neither of us need to worry about Quatre getting caught in the crossfire. I fully admit what we did on L2." He raised his hands slightly, palms open to show he wasn't actively armed or reaching for his service pistol; if he pulled the gun trick he'd played with both Zechs and 01, there was a damn good chance that Duo would put it right to his temple. 

It was strange to see the pilot who had been pretty much lighthearted, if suspicious lose that humour, even just for a moment. He looked like he wanted to bite at that, and pulled back. "Yeah, no, can't do this right now. I'm doing my fucking best to not think about it for Quatre's sake and that shit is hard. So, take a break, come back when we can shout at each other properly." He headed towards the door and opened it. "For the record, that's probably the most mature thing I've ever done." He gave a grin. "Gonna get some brownie points for not picking a fight."

And he was gone.

Yes he did. And apparently though he wanted to pick a fight with Treize, he was also safe enough as a person to leave in charge of making sure Quatre was all right. That was an interesting thing to turn over in his head as he grabbed an unopened bottle of water and headed into the darkened bedroom.

Quatre was asleep, sprawled out in their bed, the relaxation of his features showing the marks of tiredness there. He hadn't really had a chance to see how he got on talking to his sister, or how he felt.

Everything felt piled up since the battle; there hadn't been time for real rest, not... not rest that wasn't in anticipation of something else. Just one more day of meetings, and then they could go home. Re-set, recovery, work on all the details that he had done a lot of work to handwave people into accepting by sheer force of presence.

People had a hard time telling him 'no' face to face, so he was glad Relena had added the extra days onto the fiasco.

Treize got out of his boots, undressing in the dark. When he went into the bathroom, he closed the door before turning on the lights to rummage their medical supplies. He had a spectacular bruise that was spreading across his left shoulder in wonderful blacks and reds from where they'd cratered into the earth; Quatre had said it wasn't his fault, but Treize had struggled the entire battle with a blind spot that made up half his field of vision, and he knew that mech had taken them out from the left.

He took his meds, and palmed Quatre's dose for the evening, leaving the light on and the door cracked slightly as he approached the bed. "Quatre?" He needed to take painkillers, if nothing else, and then go back to sleep.

The pilot made a sort of awake noise and blinked semi awake at least. "Treize, sorry..." he said, yawning. "I dozed off."

"I wonder why." He put a knee on the bed, and slid in closer, trying to coax Quatre to sit up, putting a hand beneath his shoulder. He was still in uniform, which wasn't the most comfortable way to sleep. "I made my excuses and came back. Here, you're late on your meds."

"Oh, yeah I didn't take them after everything," he looked at himself. "I was going to get undressed too." He smiled a little. "You're ahead of me."

He glanced down at himself, and then back at Quatre a little wryly. "I wasn't sure how awake you were going to be," he said, passing Quatre the pills. "Which is a statement that doesn't make it any less awkward, does it?"

He knocked them back without needing fluids. "You don't need to second guess yourself, Treize. I feel foolish for not being in control, but on the whole I managed it a lot better. Experience I believe."

Treize still offered Quatre the water. "Left Mirialdo a bit stunned. I'm more concerned about the impact doing this has on you long term."

"I don't honestly know but it seems to be easier or like...I've exercised a muscle somehow," he took it and drank it and then started to try and slowly take off his clothes. "It's still hard but I'll meditate and compartmentalise it tomorrow. That keeps everything clear."

It was easier to bat Quatre's hands down, gently, and start to unbutton the uniform jacket himself. It kept his hands moving and in practice, after all. "Does it?"

"Yes, I think so. Sort of partitions it from my own memories though it can get a little crossed over." He relaxed, practically inviting Treize to carry on. He'd let slip at various points that he liked the idea of being touched and Treize supposed that the other pilot had restrained himself from touching virtually anyone recently.

It was too damn risky as he'd just experienced. Treize shifted the jacket back off Quatre, fingers sliding over Quatre's shoulders, contact that he hoped didn't hurt him as he helped Quatre pull his arms out of the sleeves. "I wonder. Some days I can barely manage under the weight of my own memories. And now you carry traumatic events from how many people in you?" The shirt was easier, and Quatre had an undershirt on beneath that in a vain attempt to seem less underweight. Even in the light from the bathroom, he could see the details of the bruises.

"Which is why I tried very hard to not engage and I managed it until he touched skin to skin," Quatre said seemingly completely unbothered by the movements. "I will let you know if it does not seem manageable, I promise." He only winced a little getting it off. "I've been looking forward to being with you all day."

"I will have to take you at your word, though my own experience with promising to tell people when it's no longer manageable has proven me a liar more times than I want to count." He carefully palmed Quatre's side, stretching his hand against warm skin just to feel him, and leaned in for a kiss.

Quatre responded with one of his contentment-filled tender kisses that warmed him like sitting by the fire with a fine scotch whisky sliding down his throat on a snowy afternoon. Treize closed what little space there was between them, sliding a knee behind Quatre's ass as a prelude to pulling him in closer, partially onto his lap, his other hand sliding down Quatre's back. It was a constant fascinating tug of war between having sex with an extended metaphor of sensation and trying to share the grounding physical sensation of skin on skin, touch and heat.

"You feel good touching me," Quatre murmured. "I can feel you enjoying just...touching." Not touching with only the end game as a goal.

"The end goal doesn't need two people. Doesn't even require consent." He shifted that one hand, and carefully started to unbutton Quatre's pants, kissing the edge of his mouth, his soft bottom lip, the slightly rough chapped texture, the faint stubble of hair as he kissed his way to Quatre's jaw. Every sensation was real and important. Having the opportunity to thoroughly enjoy another person's body absolutely made him as hard as a rock.

"I love feeling your enjoyment," Quatre said just shifting and moving with him, pliant and giving, his kiss full of gold behind the physical sensation.

It left him with a jumble of thoughts, remembering conversations with Vingt that had absolutely fallen away as war and duty and the weight of both of their offices had won. Huddled around books, and mythologies, wondering at the early reports of new types from the 60s, and gods of myth. Quatre had a fading tan, soft bright gold hair, and the skin under his fingers was so very human, so very fragile, but his mind was so much more than it seemed possible for a body to hold.

Treize eased Quatre's pants down, socks off, letting a hand idle against where the bandages ended.

"Take them off," Quatre whispered. "Please, your hands feel like colours on my skin, and I want to touch you but I want you to touch me more."

He pulled carefully at the edge, baring burns that looked like flattened ferns, curls and arcs against the skin. Treize shifted, slid down and let Quatre lay back on the bed. He would start methodically, kissing the side of Quatre's knee as he delicately slid fingers over the burns.

He was letting Treize feel what he felt physically; he could tell what pressure was feeling good, what tingled, what was too tender and he was luxuriating in the touch as if Treize was giving him the best gift ever.

It was no hardship for Treize; it was his favourite sort of indulgence. Because there was no questioning that his partner was enjoying themselves. And now it was better, he could respond to more than sound and the flush of skin and the way muscles would shiver and shake. He hummed against Quatre's skin, kissing him, making slow progress up to his hips.

Now he was getting faint sounds of enjoyment, the flex and movement as Quatre moved under his lips offering up his skin and body to him. The delicate pale skin a-blush with heat that rose to caress his lips, a hazy hedonistic taste of musk and fire.

He wanted to avoid the easy win, Quatre's hard eager dick, lips lingering against Quatre's hipbone, hands curling to cup his asscheeks. Switching sides was lazy, comfortable, almost drowning in the heat, and he meandered off track, kissing the underside of Quatre's dick, the flushed head.

Quatre practically purred at him, a low noise in his throat as he arched and flexed a little in response and that was a pure delight because he could feel Quatre's own surprise at the noise he had just made.

Treize wanted to hear that sound again and again. It became a little self-referential, the heat lapping at the edges and receding, while Treize sucked slowly on the head of Quatre's dick, wet and languid as he worked with care to take in more.

It was an endless loop of pleasure and he could become lost in it, the give of his touch, the heat and taste and the noises, the movement and energy glowing where he moved fingers and swallowed. He wanted to make Quatre come, and he wanted to make all of those hurt places feel better, relished in the feeling of skin under his hands, the way Quatre's muscles moved, and the feelings Quatre fed back. Treize managed to get all the way down, managed to swallow around Quatre's dick, savoring the sensation as he measured out his breaths.

Every swallow brought bursts of amazement, snapping and sparking in his awareness like popping candy and Quatre started a mental chant of TreizeTreizeTreize in a counterpoint to his soft moans, begging him to do more, keep going.

He shifted, pulled Quatre up from the bed a little, taking him as deep as he could before backing off, slurping and picking up speed, trying to goad him on. So good, it was so good to touch Quatre and feel his enjoyment, the amazement.

He was in the moment completely, playing Quatre's responses with intuitive virtuosity until the other pilot arched and climaxed with an energy that felt like fireworks and resulted in an actual physical glow for a brief moment as he reached mentally to hold and embrace his energies inside.

Treize swallowed, backed up slowly, kissing his way up Quatre's stomach. The only thing on his mind was touching more, on easing his way up Quatre's body by slow degrees, touching each delicate burn.

The other man was adrift in a haze of post orgasmic pleasure that he shared liberally around and the endorphins made those touches somehow intimate and caring in the extreme. It was what he had promised him, touching everywhere there were no bruises.

Nothing hurt, and everything bloomed not like bruises but flowers. He finished stretched out beside Quatre, kissing his nipples slowly, hands idling along Quatre's sides, half crouched over him.

"You are an artist with touch," Quatre murmured, a light shiver chasing his fingertips over skin. "I want you to.. find your release too."

He tipped Quatre's head up gently, and kissed him softly, hesitating for a moment. "Sometimes I'm a little strange about that, I'm afraid." He kissed the side of his neck, shifting to move him so they were close side by side.

"In what way?" It was simple curiosity, and a willingness to at least hear without judgement.

He hesitated, shifting and pulling Quatre somewhat atop him, hands roaming and keeping things relaxed as his mind verged up toward panic. The bed was warm, and Quatre felt very good, tasted very good. "You know I haven't always been... in control of these situations."

Quatre embraced him, feeling his need for contact, reassurance swept over him that he didn't have to say if he didn't want to, definitely didn't have to do more if he chose not to. He nodded, waiting to see if Treize wanted to say more.

And for the first time that day, he didn't. It was safe to talk and it was safe to not talk, so he kissed Quatre instead, letting his hands stroke at the hair at the back of Quatre's neck. Giving voice to it was too much, horrifying after a long day of uneven mood, and it was easier to rock his hips slightly against Quatre.

Quatre began kissing him in earnest then, stoppering the need for words with more of those kisses that ran the gamut of smooth and warm, to lazy hot summer nights tumbling in cool sheets in a languid slide of skin against skin. What he chose to do with that was given to him with each press of lips and touch of fingers and friction against warmth.

He wanted the kisses, let his hands roam enough to reassure himself it was Quatre, to feel the way his leg bent or his hips moved, starting to lose himself in it again. Sometimes it just caught in his mind, and he couldn't, and that was fine. Most partners let it go or didn't care, which was easier somehow.

It was easy to move and feel, feel friction, slide and feel that satisfying tension move and coil in his groin, seeking release.

He kissed Quatre, his mouth, his neck, clutching at his back with care, so close, finally close, and he arched up against Quatre, the friction of his dick against hip and belly finally too much. Everything was a wash of colours as he came, undercut with gold gold gold, Quatre.

It lingered in him, something pure and all the feelings of care and of being needed and wanted wrapped around him in a cocoon of protection. "Thank you," Quatre murmured, something he seemed to do often now when he put the other pilot's pleasure first.

As if he might stop suddenly, which was absurd. "Don't thank me. You're a gift to be with." Everything was still molasses slow and heavy, warm and sweaty, and he laid there a little boneless. When Quatre wasn't injured, when it wouldn't inflict any pain, and when he had lube and condoms around, he wanted to take that much time to see to him, and then carefully prep his ass for a long, slow, proper fucking. 

"Soon," Quatre promised, yawning a little. "You feel nice and when you think of things like that it is a lot of fun for me. I make a promise, and I really want to keep it. Especially after that. That was magnificent. Don't move, you are comfortable there."

He turned his head a little, kissing at Quatre's temple, letting his mind drift a little to imagining Quatre held tight against him, on his hands and knees, with his dick buried all the way into him, kissing at his neck. "Which part is more important to you, the mental or the physical?"

"Hmmm, I think I'm appreciating the physical more with you, but over all the mental. " Quatre said, making a hmm of satisfaction. "The physical with you makes me be...right there in the moment, just in the whole experience. Maybe because our connection is so open." The images floating back were of that going on ranging from from slow and painstakingly smooth, to rough and hard. It seemed Quatre was open to all. "But then the mental - so many gorgeous feelings from you, rippling and seeking."

He let his hands idle along Quatre's back, letting himself drift in the feelings, the things Quatre offered back. Rough and hard took a certain headspace and timing, and he hadn't honestly been in the mood since he'd had more than enough while under house arrest. But given sufficient incentive, those urges weren't far buried. "What does it feel like?"

"You catch some of the spill," he replied. "That's the merest bits sloshing over the side of the glass. It feels amazing when it is with someone who wants to be with you. And terrible if their heart is not in it, destroying somehow."

His arms tightened a little in reflex. Everyone surely had it happen at least once or twice in their lives, sometimes more, but to be an empath and feel that... "Why not stop it?" Weaponize it.

"I don't know, I feel the urge to try and fill it, rather than break it," Quatre said. "Maybe I could though it's just that doing something can cause damage."

He hummed quietly in response, turning that over in his mind, one hand idling up to rest at the back of Quatre's neck. "Have you done that before?" When he asked the question, he thought of yanking someone up, making them stop short.

Quatre paused and images of a battle with Heero, and the strike to kill on the Mercurius and reaching, grappling feeling the slick void of Zero where his friends heart should be and how he pushed his own anguish, his own pain and desperation at his friend in a whip crack force that literally felt like a knockout blow, all his guilt over Trowa and own self-loathing trailing along like poison.

"Not a pull, but a push."

It left him feeling a strange relief, and Treize couldn't articulate the reason why. Perhaps that it wasn't innately weaponized, that it was a choice, if that was what Quatre needed to use it for. In response to the sharing, he reached out a little more, trying to pass along the comfort. And with it went a funny thought, of offering, which settled well with Treize as they laid there, Quatre warm and comfortable against him. "When we get back to Luxembourg, we will set time aside for you to practice. As one would with a sword."

"On you?" Quatre asked his eyes closed in an expression of trust that also seemed innate. He wasn't sure how someone who could sense the darkness in people could be so innately innocent appearing. But Quatre was a paradox, he very clearly wasn't innocent in the traditional way.

There was no real naiveté there, just an openness. "On me. It's not entirely altruistic, we'll both learn more about this by doing." And he could buckle down and find old resources in a way that wouldn't be tracked back to him, or trigger off anyone's curiosity sensors. Now that such a broad swathe of work had been already achieved, he had the space to manage.

"I do want to help the others," Quatre said, just gently touching his face with his fingers. "And I think, despite how we started, it has helped you a little, and could help more."

He turned his head a little, to better regard Quatre, letting him touch, enjoying the motion of fingertips sliding over scarring beneath the eye patch. The skin was still raw and pink, papery where it stretched because as John had said, it was impossible to ask him to keep his mouth shut, so it wasn't going to heal smoothly. "Don't discount yourself, it's helped a great deal. It's also arduous, and I don't want to inflict pain on you. And it is pain."

"Pilots are used to it aren't they?" Quatre stated, his touch incredibly gentle. "I wish...I wish I could help the body more as well as the mind."

Treize gave a quiet laugh of an exhalation, but he didn't dislodge the touch. Quatre was right, physical sensation, real contact was incredibly important and stimulating when he could get it. An untold luxury. "I find losing an eye one of the least offensive things I've endured in the last 12 months."

"I'm so sorry," Quatre said simply. "The world has not treated you well. You deserve more." From someone else, empty words but from him, he did not doubt he meant every word.

"I haven't treated the world well," Treize countered, turning his head to kiss Quatre's fingers. "So I think of it as my comeuppance."

"No Treize," Quatre answered, lying his head down to rest on him. "You don't deserve any of that. Maybe one day you might believe it."

"It is a point that we will have to agree to disagree on." He stretched a little and got settled in to doze for a while, enjoying the comfort of having the other pilot there with him.


End file.
